


She Ain't Never Had a Love Like Mine

by INMH



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Drama, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-07
Updated: 2011-09-07
Packaged: 2018-06-10 13:06:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6957685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/INMH/pseuds/INMH
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fill for a prompt, "Anna showing Rachel the pleasures of the flesh."</p>
            </blockquote>





	She Ain't Never Had a Love Like Mine

This is wrong.

This is wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong.

What's going to happen if someone catches them? What will her superiors do to her? Kill her? Probably reeducate her. She already knows what they'll do to Anna. She already has a death sentence on her head.

What will Castiel say? Zachariah? Uriel? Michael? Balthazar (No, she knows what Balthazar will say: "Why didn't you let me _watch?_ ).

Rachel stares at the ceiling and doesn't watch as Anna's lips trace over her stomach. She doesn't want to see. The less she sees, the less she smells and hears and feels and tastes, the less likely any memories created by this will be triggered later on by something else; damn human senses.

She lays on her back and alternates between staring at the ceiling and squeezing her eyes shut, her breath is steady one moment but when Anna's lips brushed over where bra and skin met Rachel started breathing much more shallowly, heavily. She almost whined then. When Anna moves south to her thigh, she nearly does again.

At the lack of noise, Anna pulls away and looks up. "You're thinking again, aren't you? I told you not to do that."

Rachel almost offers up a quick and efficient apology, but at the last moment remembers that Anna is not her commander anymore and she has nothing to be sorry for; yet. She keeps thinking that Zachariah will make her very sorry indeed if he ever finds out about this. And Rachel is not paranoid to think he will; Zachariah is well-informed.

Anna seamlessly slides up over Rachel like a blanket, sits on her hips and then gently pulls Rachel up by the waist. Old habits die hard: Given the taboo and unfamiliar intimacy of the situation, Rachel does not want to look Anna in the eye, but that's what you did whenever a superior officer was looking at you. Looking away was suspicious; it meant you were hiding something.

Rachel's not hiding anything. She doesn't have to.

Yet.

Rachel's vessel is a bit older than Anna's, but given the generational structure in heaven, Rachel is actually about three thousand years younger than Anna. The age alone is enough, but the fact that Anna once gave orders and demanded respect from her troops makes Rachel every bit as submissive now as she was then.

It's her secret that she still holds a modicum of respect for Anna, even though she's fallen, forsaken God and their brothers and sisters, forsaken the laws of the Host, because Anna has never failed to be the kind of person that you can't help but respect, strong and intelligent and confident and oh so beautiful. It's probably why Rachel hasn't tried to kill her or run away thus far, why she's letting Anna do this.

"You think things like this to death," Anna whispers into Rachel's ear, a relatively blunt nail tracing down the side of Rachel's breast, then over her ribs, her stomach, down to her waist where it hooks into the simple beige panties that Rachel's vessel was wearing the day she possessed her. She pulls them down and motions for Rachel to move a bit so she can maneuver them off. "But you never question anything else, do you Rachel?"

The garment's off, tossed away, and Rachel's cheeks go red at the new level of exposure. It does not help that strange and foreign feeling, that tingling in her groin and her breasts and the chill that runs through her when Anna touches her skin. She tries to stay focused, though: She's not some greenhorn, not some bashful child easily reduced to panic and wordlessness.

"I don't know what you mean." She averts her eyes as Anna removes her own panties, though her eyes never leave Rachel's face as she does. She sighs.

"I don't suppose you would." Anna swoops in and kisses Rachel, twisting a hand in her long, blonde hair, tugging slightly as she slips a knee between Rachel's legs and the action provides the younger angel with the kind of stimulation that makes her buck upwards, directly into Anna.

The redhead reaches down and hooks Rachel's leg over her hip, providing her with better leverage as she grinds their lower halves together, keeping their mouths sealed and swallowing every whimper, every yelp that would have passed Rachel's lips. She keeps moving, keeps the other distracted with kissing and grinding and groping and tugging, silently commanding her to _not_ think, to instead enjoy the sensations and know that they were good, that they didn't feel like the fires of hell licking at your skin.

It's too much. Rachel is, indeed, overloaded, the stimulation, the feelings she's never felt the overwhelming physical closeness to someone else, and in the midst of such an act, it's more than she feels like she can handle. To make matters worse, Anna reaches down with her free hand and rubs their folds, eventually sliding a finger or two into Rachel and listening to her muffled keen.

They probed, they poked, until finally Anna pinpointed a spot within her that made Rachel howl and tear their mouths apart. " _Anna!_ " She half-gasps, half-cries in ecstasy, and Anna continues to grind their hips together, pushing hard at that spot, her own eyes slipping shut in pleasure.

"Come for me, Rachel," She whispers. "Come on. Just-"

Rachel does, vision whiting out and every nerve in her vessel alight in a fire that is definitely not hellish.

-End

**Author's Note:**

> Another old fic imported from elsewhere.


End file.
